(This is just to test the waters of the subject...Please let me know if it interests you)

Lindsey Dolce is a kindhearted sixteen year-old. The sister of Michael Dolce and daughter of Alexander and Marie Dolce...but she is different as she one of four specially designed androids designed as part of Project LIND. LIND (Linguistically Interactive Neurological Diagnostic) was created as a think tank to combine the skills of robotics and social sciences to create a near perfect from of artificial intelligence that could support manned missions to Mars. LIND version C lives with the Dolce family. She is highly thought of at church they attend and over time she begins to wonder if God can love a machine: can she be more than what is programmed within her. Her father’s attempts to reset her systems fail and she request to be baptized. At the next governmental inspection, Lindsey's behavior is deemed hazardous and she is to be taken from the Dolce family and given a "trial" to see if she will "repent" from her ways or have her memory wiped away.

Ready, Willing and Able

It’s been fifteen years. Fifteen years of missing my sister. I’ve been unable to talk about it for so long due to regulations and security clearances and the fact that no one would believe me. Oh, they’d believe that I had a sister, but not about what ultimately happened to her, that would be too much to believe, even in today’s age. My sister was not human, but she was very much alive and if she were here today, I would have loved to hear what she could have said because it took me near the end of her life-she was only three years old-- before I started listening to what she had to say about my life and what I was doing with it. I believe there is a special place in Heaven for children.

“Project LIND” was born on August in 1999. LIND, Linguistically Interactive Neurological Diagnostic, was created as a think tank to combine the skills of robotics and social sciences in order to create a near perfect from of artificial intelligence that could support manned missions to Mars. In 1999 I was three years old and until I turned fifteen, I had no idea what my dad actually did for a living. I always assumed he worked at some computer manufacturer as a design technician. I was two-thirds correct. My mom worked as a psychology professor at the local college, at least that is what she told me.
In reality, both were working for the privately funded, yet, governmentally controlled Project LIND. The project was so hush-hush that various members of the group had no idea who they were actually working with. If this sounds a bit like a Tom Clancy book, well, you are not too far off. Our family, at times, had various security guards lurking around our home. I grew up with several uncles and aunts who were really either members of a security detail or staff of Project LIND.

We moved a few times before settling in a small town in northwestern Mississippi. We lived in a large two-story house with a pool in the back. There were was plenty of room for the four us: my parents, myself, and my new sister, Lindsey. Our neighbors assumed we were an average family and our house looked like every other one in the neighborhood except for the large communications and servers running in a secured room accessed from a panel on the staircase landing. Yeah, almost like the opening of “The Munsters”. The room could only be accessed by voice command and a watch-looking device that we all had.
Lindsey stood about five-foot-six and weighed close to 260 pounds due to her construction. Let’s just say that she was pretty much invulnerable to anything thrown at her—as Project LIND assumed that a youthful version would be put through more strain. I want to assume my mom had a say in that as kids are cruel, abusive, and malicious and Lindsey had to be made of sterner stuff. I will say that I never tried to arm wrestle her; I never attempted to outrun her, and I never said anything about her weight because it seemed to annoy her. I originally thought that she was just responding based on an algorithm but as time went by, it was difficult to tell if it was just programming or something more.
“Does she follow the three laws?”
“You’re watching too many movies, Mike.”
I stood on the other side of the server room. There was a large table near the middle which was used to perform any repairs on Lindsey’s systems. The LIND androids had an Achilles heel—literally: the servo motors that controlled the feet were under so much pressure to balance the upper body they could snap and damage the external skin covering. Hence, Lindsey usually wore jeans, socks and tennis shoes made by NASA, but they still had the Nike “swoosh”. On Sundays, she chose to wear a dress, and like the jeans, they were long enough that anyone else would trip over them, but she never had issues.
“Yeah, maybe, but what’s to stop them from going Terminator on us someday?”
“Programming, Michael.”
“Yeah, but she’s supposed to learn and develop her own, feelings, right?”
“Yes.”
“So, what’s stopping her from killing us or enslaving us for the benefit of our lives?”
Dad sighed and then looked up at me: “Don’t you have a lawn to mow?”